Music is Love
by Mongoose09
Summary: When Harry Potter woke up on one grey, gloomy day and found Hermione singing to herself at the table, he thought that he must be losing his mind. But he was quite wrong. That morning had the power to change his life forever.
1. A Moment in the Snow

**A/N:** So… *waves shyly*

I know that this chapter is freakishly long, at least for a first-time post, but this story was originally intended to be a one-shot, though it didn't end up turning out that way. I hope that explains both the length of the chapter and the pace at which the story moves. The other chapters won't be as long!

Hope you like it!

**A Moment in the Snow**

Harry Potter woke to find a gray, gloomy sort of sunlight drifting lazily in through the small "window" in his room in the tent. It could not really be called a window - it had no glass and was simply a square-shaped opening in the side of the tent, covered by thick plastic to keep the cold out - but it did allow a moderately good view of the outside world, though it was sometimes oddly skewed in places where the plastic had crumpled a little. Gazing groggily out of it, he could tell that it was early morning. It was also snowing. He knew that it must be near Christmas, by the look of things, and he remembered how Christmas used to be his favourite time of year at Hogwarts, with the breathtaking decorations going up and Peeves having great fun inventing his own (rude) lyrics to familiar Christmas tunes. Everyone pretended to hate the songs he made up, but every last person at Hogwarts, including teachers, would admit to having caught themselves humming or singing one of his little compositions at random moments during (and sometimes not during) the holiday season.

He sighed as he remembered his first Christmas at Hogwarts, when he and Ron had still been friends, roasting anything edible in the cheery fire that was always lit in the Gryffindor common room during the winter, and making up elaborate ways of getting Malfoy kicked out of school, which had been great fun to plan even though they had both known full well that their plans were impossible.

Things had been so much simpler then. They just hadn't realized it at the time. Even with the whole Philosopher's Stone ordeal, things had been so much easier, so much simpler…

Harry sighed again. Those times were gone. Ron had abandoned Harry and Hermione when they needed him most, chickening out when things got bad. Harry remembered the terrible screaming fight they had had, which had escalated to the point where Harry knew that they would have duelled had Hermione not managed to react faster than either of them, casting a split-second Shield Charm between the two boys. Harry would never admit it, but he felt guilty for his instinctive reaction, reaching for his own wand before he knew what he was doing. He knew, in his heart of hearts, that in that crazed moment, he probably would have duelled Ron with no regard for his (ex-) friend's safety.

Thank Merlin for Hermione being incredibly fast when it came to her spellwork. Things might have gotten messy had she not intervened.

An image of Ron lying mangled and bloodied on the ground after a fierce duel floated into Harry's head, but he shook it away and got up and dressed, making a very half-hearted attempt to flatten his always-messy hair. Stretching, he took another look out the window to find that it was still gray and snowing. The sun came up very slowly this time of year, feeling lazy like everything and everyone else as the world prepared for Christmas and the small break that usually came with it. Harry sighed again. He definitely appreciated the absence of his seventh-year lessons, but he thought that it would have been worth it to suffer through mounds of schoolwork if only he was back at Hogwarts again, warm and safe within the walls of the castle, with Ron as his best mate and Ginny as his-

Well, no… Take off the "Ginny as his girlfriend" part. Harry had realized, with Ginny's sudden kiss that summer, that he didn't really feel anything special about Ginny. Sure, he had snogged her a few times, but he had done that with Cho Chang as well, and nothing had come from it. Ginny was Ron's little sister, and she always had been. Six years of knowing her like that had kind of turned off any romantic impulses towards her, minus that sudden chest monster, which he didn't really care for all that much. It felt like heartburn, but worse. The kind of heartburn that you couldn't swallow some Pepto Potion (which was, oddly, violently pink) for.

The chest monster had confused him for a long time, but out here, in relative solitude (minus Hermione, of course), he had had plenty of time to contemplate the occasional rumblings of the chest monster (and a few other issues as well). He now had an understanding of why people went out into nature to think about life's greatest mysteries. Being free of a schedule, free of the possibility that someone was going to pop in and ask you to do something, and having the freedom to spend as much (or almost as much) time as you liked just thinking about things, just random things, was a very good recipe for reflective thought and, sometimes, if you were lucky, profound revelations. Especially, Harry had discovered, when you got to sit in the middle of a forest that was bursting into full autumn colour and not be bothered by anything except, perhaps, a crisp breeze now and then. Harry had thought about taking up meditation, his environment was so perfect for it, but he thought that Hermione would seriously think that he had lost his marbles if he took to sitting under trees with his legs crossed and his eyes closed. (She had already been very tolerant of his desire to sit quietly by himself for long periods of time, sometimes even hours, while he reflected about all sorts of things. She seemed to think it was good for him to work through whatever stray fears or worries he had running rampant in his system, and occasionally seemed almost relieved that he had finally figured out how to cope with everything without completely shutting himself off from everyone and everything around him for days at a time.)

Harry had managed to have three profound revelations, and was very proud of himself. OK, maybe these were not such profound revelations, he hadn't found the true purpose of his life or anything, but they were profound enough to have changed the way he saw things nowadays. And besides, he felt that someone as tentative as he was to take any small step toward the complex realms of human emotions should be proud to have had any vague hint of a revelation.

First of all, he had realized that he was not pining for Ginny, it had merely been the sight of her and Dean kissing so… er… passionately that had awakened his chest monster. Not because it was Ginny, but because seeing her kissing Dean like that so soon after she had broken up with Michael Corner had made him realize that after he and Cho had called it quits, he had never picked up the shards of his love life and moved on. No, he wasn't carrying a torch for Cho, but he realized that he might as well have been. He had never bothered to fancy another girl since his relationship with Cho had gone down the tubes. He didn't need relationships, he had thought. They were too much trouble.

He had thought.

Which led to his second revelation: he was lonely. Seeing his two best friends finally start openly fancying each other that year had made him feel left out and alone. And since Ginny had been the one to awaken the chest monster in the first place, his confused brain had categorized her as the person who could fill the little gap of loneliness in his heart. So he had gone to her. And she had managed to fill that little gap, seeing as when he was with her, he did not feel lonely, but there was a new gap: he didn't just want to stop feeling lonely.

He wanted to start feeling loved.

Yes, yes, that was your cue to burst into tears. How cute, the hero of the wizarding world wants to find love. Rita Skeeter, eat your heart out. But despite how positively sappy it sounded, Harry knew that it was true. Ginny fancied him, he knew, and she was an excellent snogging partner, but she never wanted to talk about anything but herself or him, and sometimes a little bit about what she had read in the Daily Prophet. They never actually talked about their feelings for each other, they just kind of assumed what they assumed and then sealed it with a good bit of snogging behind some random suit of armour. But neither had ever said the words, those three small-yet-unbelievably-important words, to the other. Neither had even told the other that they fancied them. Their words (in between their snogs) had been small talk about the two of them, or sometimes even a little about the rest of the world. Discussing emotions was not a strong point in either of them, especially not when either was around the other. Merlin knew whom Ginny did talk about them with, if at all, and Harry went to Hermione for that sort of discussion.

Then again, he had been dealing with any and all confused emotions by himself lately (and he now knew that he had a fairly good reason to keep things to himself…), which was much easier in the complete solitude of the forest (well, solitude minus the company of one certain brown-haired witch).

Which had led to his third revelation (and this is what made him very grateful that said brown-haired witch didn't try to make him tell her what he had been thinking about when he finished up one of his reflective sessions):

He was in love with Hermione.

Again, that was your cue to burst into tears. Rita Skeeter, buy some more ink and a few extra Quick-Quotes Quills, you're going to get one monster of an article out of this one. How adorable, the hero of the wizarding world falls for his best friend and trusty sidekick, that "plain-looking" girl who stands in the background and helps him out while he gets all the glory. That girl who everybody thinks is going to end up with the other (not-so-) trusty sidekick, because she's certainly not worthy of His Highness Harry Potter.

Well, bug off, Rita Skeeter.

OK, Harry had thought during one of his pensive moments, so she's not a supermodel. Big freakin' whoop! Isn't it remotely possible that His Highness Harry Potter gives a darn about something other than looks? And by the way, Rita Skeeter, he had thought, frowning as anger at what that woman had said about Hermione all those years ago bubbled away inside of him, Hermione's a heck of a lot better looking than you, you cow, so why don't you take that quill of yours and shove it up-

Well, you get the idea. Hey, who said that reflective sessions had to be G-rated? It was in his head, for heaven's sake, it wasn't hurting anyone. (Besides, he was already censoring himself most of the time, hence the "big freakin' whoop", thinking that swears were probably not all that beneficial to the whole dealing-with-your-problems-properly thing.)

There were plenty of things about Hermione for him to love, even if you were the persistent kind and insisted that she was just "plain-looking". He loved her laugh, her smile (both because he thought it was beautiful and because it made him happy to watch her smile), her thirst for learning (unlike his previous girlfriends, who seemed to be in school only because they had to be), her passion for helping house-elves (which, he thought, showed enthusiasm, determination and kindness all at once), and even her little version of a "saving-people thing" (had she not saved Harry from certain death at least six times, both Harry and Ron from their homework more times than any of them could count, Sirius from imprisonment, and even Crookshanks from the Magical Menagerie, where no one wanted him?), to name a few.

There were so many things about Hermione that he loved, he wondered how he hadn't realized it before now.

This revelation of his was the reason that he was very glad for Hermione's apparent understanding of the fact that he wanted to be able to think about things by himself. He was not going to tell her that he was in love with her. Ever. (Unless, of course, the Apocalypse was coming or something, in which case he would tell her, just because they were all going to die anyway and it wouldn't matter.) He could tell that even though they fought a lot, his friends were happy with each other, and he was not going to be the one to ruin that by dropping this bomb on them. He could manage the single life, it wouldn't kill him. And if it did, well, the Potter line would die out at last. Big whoop. The Weasleys could be one big, happy family, and he would be glad for them. He had managed to sincerely promise himself that he would, during one of his many pensive moments, and he intended to keep that promise, even if it meant him staying single for the rest of his life. Or, perhaps, he'd settle for someone who wasn't Hermione. Either way, he couldn't have her.

And that nearly broke his heart. But he would deal with it. He had learned how now.

Harry stepped out of his room and heard an odd sound or two, sounding like they were coming from farther away inside the tent. Hermione must be awake, he realized, following the sound for a moment before nearly starting to chuckle.

Hermione was awake, yes. And she was singing. Hermione, Harry had always thought, was not one to sing, ever (unless, of course, the Apocalypse was coming or something, in which case she might as well, because they were all going to die anyway and it wouldn't matter), but he could tell that this was more than just her talking to herself. Nobody talked to himself or herself in that sort of tone. He had to admit, though, her singing wasn't half bad. The notes sounded good together, anyway, forming a relatively slow tune that Harry thought sounded a little sad.

He crept closer to the sound, which was coming from the kitchen, where she usually sat in the morning, waiting for him to get up so they could start working (fruitlessly, Harry had to admit) on brainstorming new possibilities for Horcruxes and their locations. He knew that both he and Hermione were a little frustrated, having so little information at their disposal, but both were coping. Hermione had managed to adopt Harry's more relaxed, thoughtful attitude, which was a big change in her character.

This is not, of course, to say that they were not taking their Horcrux hunt seriously, but both had decided that there was no point in going into fits of hysterics over something that they couldn't do any more than try to make good guesses about. Besides, Hermione had pointed out once, it would be easier to think clearly if they tried to calm down, making it easier to brainstorm more than desperate, far-fetched guesses at where and what the remaining Horcruxes might be. Harry agreed. It was better to take the time to form better ideas than to go running all over the globe, searching for objects that were probably not even there.

Peeking around a corner, he found Hermione sitting at the table, sipping a cup of tea and staring almost dreamily - yet somehow looking a little sad at the same time - out yet another "window", murmuring a song to herself. Harry was finally close enough to catch the lyrics.

"And you don't see me

And you don't need me

And you don't love me

The way I wish you would

The way I know you could…"

She sighed quietly, sadly, and took another sip of her tea. Harry was completely dumbstruck.

OK, let's assess the situation, he thought to himself, attempting to process this strange event. I woke up to find that not only is Hermione singing, she's sitting there singing a love song. And since when can she even put on an expression like that? She's reminding me of Luna Lovegood, honestly! Plus, Hermione doesn't ever sigh like that, ever. Female or not, Hermione does not sigh like… like a girl!

Harry rolled his eyes. Merlin, it must be that time of the month again. Inch away slowly, Potter… Slowly… Stay five feet away at all times…

"Oh! Hi, Harry," came Hermione's surprised voice.

Darn. "Hi, 'Mione," he replied, taking a step into the kitchen. She looked at him curiously.

"What are you doing, skulking in doorways like that?" she asked.

"What are you doing, singing love songs?" he asked in response, raising his eyebrows at her. She went a little pink.

"Oh, you heard…" she said, looking embarrassed and becoming very interested in her cup of tea. "Sorry about that…"

"Sorry?" Harry asked. "Why are you sorry? You're not a bad singer. You're pretty good, actually." He tried very hard to make sure that she knew that he actually meant it.

She only went redder. "How long was my singing under your scrutiny, exactly?"

"A minute or two," he replied. "Why?"

"No reason," she said. "Just curious."

"Oh. You still haven't answered my question."

"Which was…?" she asked innocently, though she knew full well what his question had been.

"What are you doing, sitting here singing? Singing love songs, no less?" he added, raising his eyebrows at her once again.

Still finding her tea extremely fascinating, she managed to murmur, "It is not a love song…"

"Right," said Harry disbelievingly.

"It's more of an anti-love song, really," said Hermione.

"How?"

"Well, I don't know about you, but I don't count songs about love that never happens as "love songs"," she said. "They're just sad songs, that's all."

"I guess so," said Harry, nodding slowly. "Why are you sitting here singing sad songs, then?" he asked her. "Jeez, what a tongue twister," he added.

She finally averted her attention from her tea and grinned a small grin, which faded after a moment. "I don't know, Harry… It just kind of popped into my head, that's all."

Harry didn't completely believe her. He pulled up a chair beside her, a little concerned. She seemed sort of depressed.

"Feeling blue?" he asked, with a mock-pouty lip.

Again, his little attempt at humour earned him a small, quick grin. "A little, I guess," she admitted.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

She sighed, resting an elbow on the table and leaning her cheek against her hand. "I don't know, Harry…" she said, for the second time that day. "I guess I'm just kind of… lonely."

"Hey!" he said.

Another small grin. "Oh, not lonely like that, Harry… Lonely in that other way."

He chuckled a little. "Not used to sleeping alone, are we?"

"Harry!" she exclaimed. "Jeez, see if I ever try to be serious with you again…"

"Sorry, just trying to lighten the mood," he said, raising his hands in surrender.

"It's OK," she said. "I guess I'm being a bit of a downer, huh?"

"Nah, it's all right," he said reassuringly. "But it's not all right for me to just stand by and let you wallow in misery."

"I'm not wallowing in misery," she protested, "I'm just… blue, as you put it."

"So, you're blue because you're lonely in some mysterious way that doesn't involve sleeping alone," Harry recited, trying to assess the situation.

"Yeah, some mysterious way," she said, sighing a little. "For sure."

"Aw, come on, 'Mione, tell me what's wrong," he pleaded. "You're killing me, here."

"You'll laugh," she said quietly. "It's stupid."

"Hermione," he said, "anything that is managing to depress you, the queen of complete and total calm, is not stupid."

"It is," she persisted, "and besides, no matter how I phrase it, it always sounds like I'm just fishing for compliments."

"I know that you don't fish for compliments," said Harry. "Please, Hermione, just tell me what it is that's bothering you."

She sighed, becoming vaguely interested in her tea again. "Why doesn't anybody love me, Harry?" she asked quietly.

Harry had to admit it, it did sound like she was just fishing for compliments and kind words, but he could tell from her general attitude that she really meant it.

"'Mione…" he said, getting up and placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. "Lots of people love you. I'm pretty sure that every single teacher at Hogwarts loves you to bits… well, maybe not Snape," (she grinned again), "Hagrid loves you, Remus and Tonks love you, all of the Weasleys love you…"

She made a small, disbelieving noise.

"Ron does too," Harry said firmly. "No matter what he's done, I know he loves you just as much as everyone else. And I love you, of course," he finished, giving her shoulder a reassuring squeeze and hoping that she wouldn't notice anything hidden in his words.

She sighed again. "That's very sweet of you, Harry, but you don't understand…"

"What don't I understand?"

"Harry," she said, "I don't mean that kind of love. I mean, you know, real love."

"Well, that doesn't make me feel like chopped liver at all," said Harry.

"You know what I mean, Harry. I mean real love, like what Remus and Tonks have got, what Mr. and Mrs. Weasley have got, what Bill and Fleur and Hagrid and Madame Maxime have all got. Real love, the man-loves-a-woman sort of love. Nobody loves me like that."

"Oh, 'Mione, that's not true…" said Harry. I know it's not true, seeing as I love her exactly like that…

"It is," she said miserably. "It's true. Nobody loves me like that, not even close. I thought Ron did, but… well, you saw what happened. He obviously didn't care enough to stay when I ran after him, crying my eyes out," she said, her voice slightly shaky. "I loved him like that, Harry, I did…"

Harry was a little dazed. Hermione wasn't exactly one to profess undying love. Then again, he didn't suppose that this was undying, and he addressed that next.

"You did. So you don't anymore?" he asked.

She stalled by pushing her hair behind her ears. "I don't know anymore, Harry… I used to love Ron like that, I know I did, but since he ran off, I just don't know anymore… And now… now I think I might be in love with someone else, but I just don't know…" She sighed. "Don't know much, do I?"

"You know plenty of stuff," said Harry. "You're just a little confused. It happens. Why d'you think I spent hours and hours sitting outside thinking about things before it got too cold?"

She looked at him curiously out of the corner of her eye. "Really? You're confused too?"

He shook his head. "I was. I've worked things out now. But anyway, we're not talking about me."

"Right, my confusion's under your scrutiny."

"Scrutiny?" asked Harry, caught off guard. "I'm not scrutinizing, I'm trying to help you… Sorry, I'll stop if you like," he said, taking his hand off of her shoulder and feeling a little stung.

"Oh, no… I didn't mean it like that, Harry, really," she said, finally looking straight at him instead of at her tea. "I'm really sorry," she said miserably, "you're trying to be nice to me and I hurt your feelings. No wonder nobody loves me like that…"

"It's OK, 'Mione," he said reassuringly, whatever sting her words had inflicted on him quickly fading away. "I know that you didn't mean it in a hurtful way. Come on now, tell me about this mystery lover of yours."

She went a little pink. "He's not my mystery lover, seeing as he doesn't even fancy me. He's already got a girlfriend a thousand times prettier than me, a thousand times more popular than me, and much less of an insufferable know-it-all than I am. Plus, she's got about a million times more snogging experience than I've got," she added, with a tiny grin.

He grinned a quick grin back in response. "You say that this girl is "much less of an insufferable know-it-all than you are". So, you think she's stupid?"

"Nah, she's not stupid," said Hermione, "she just doesn't memorize every word in every textbook."

"Oh, all right. And you're not an insufferable know-it-all, by the way," he added, realizing that he probably should have said that right away. "Moving on, then… You say she's 'a thousand times prettier than you'? Well, whoever this guy is, he shouldn't be shallow enough to only care about looks if he even comes close to deserving you, and besides, it's impossible that any girl is a thousand times prettier than you. They'd have to be a direct relative of Aphrodite, or whatever her name was, in order to manage that. And even then, it'd be pretty darn hard to top you."

She turned pink again. "Don't lie just to make me feel better, Harry."

"Who's lying?" asked Harry. "I don't lie. I'm offended that you'd even accuse me of it," he said, crossing his arms and sticking his nose in the air dramatically.

She sighed. "Come on, Harry, you can't possibly believe all the stuff you just said. I'm that plain-looking girl who used to vaguely resemble a beaver, remember?"

Harry rolled his eyes. "OK, if you really want to stretch it, you might have had slightly large front teeth when you were younger. And you're not plain-looking, you just don't show off."

Hermione just went a little redder.

"Now, on top of all of that, who cares how popular this other girl is? Personally, I wouldn't like to have my girlfriend swarmed by boys day in and day out."

Hermione coughed but didn't say anything. Harry chose to continue without pressing her for a response.

"And finally, who cares how much snogging experience this girl's got? I'm pretty sure that you'd have plenty soon enough if you told this guy how you feel. He wouldn't be able to resist," he said with a grin. I know I wouldn't…

Hermione's cheeks went from red to crimson. "Harry…"

"What?" he asked innocently.

"You're embarrassing me…"

"You say that, but I know that you're loving it on the inside," said Harry.

"Maybe," she said.

"Hm, right," said Harry, grinning again. "Now we get to the last step: who's this guy?"

"I… can't tell you that," she said, looking uncomfortable.

"You can," said Harry. "I'll keep it secret, I promise."

She shook her head. "I can't. It's kind of… awkward."

"Awkward?"

"Yeah."

"How so?"

"Can't tell you," she said again. "You'll figure it out."

"Why so secretive, 'Mione?" he asked with genuine curiosity. "Don't you trust me?"

"Of course I do, Harry, it's just… Well, there's no point in telling anyone who it is, because nothing's ever going to happen between me and him anyway, so it would really just be a load of awkwardness for no reason at all," she said, rather hurriedly. "You know, I think I'll take a page out of your book and go contemplate things outside for a while…" she said, getting up from the table and gathering up her coat and gloves.

"Who says that nothing could ever happen between the two of you?" Harry asked, following her as she gathered up her things. "Who says that he doesn't fancy you at all?"

"He's already got the mega-girlfriend, remember?" she said. "I don't even come close to being as fanciable as her, never mind as lovable."

"'Mione, you're extremely fanciable," Harry said truthfully, remembering how she had said almost the same thing to him once. "And I'm sure that this guy would be utterly mad about you if you'd just tell him how you feel."

She didn't answer him as she put on her coat and boots. She walked over to the tent's exit, unzipped it, and paused. She sighed.

"Right, Harry, I'm sure that the saviour of the wizarding world is completely crazy about a boring little bookworm like me," she said quietly.

Harry felt like somebody had just whacked him upside the head with an extremely thick and heavy cauldron, possibly the solid gold one that Hagrid had once refused to let him buy.

"What?" he asked, nearly in a whisper. She couldn't be, she wasn't talking about… about him? No, that was impossible…

She managed a sad little smile, looking relieved to have finally admitted who it was she fancied, maybe even loved, but miserable at the same time. "Now you know," she said, just as quietly as before. "Cue the awkwardness."

And she left, zipping the exit behind her and leaving a dazed Harry standing alone.

Harry's brain tried to process the shocking things that he had just heard. Hermione… Hermione fancied him? Maybe even loved him? That was… that was…

Wonderful.

A grin spread across Harry's face. (She loves me back! She loves me back!)

And it quickly disappeared. (And she's miserable because she thinks I love Ginny, the "mega-girlfriend".)

Oh, Merlin, he had to go and tell her. Grabbing his coat and boots as fast as he could, he left the tent to find her sitting cross-legged in a circle of grass, which had been both cleared of snow and dried by her trusty hot-air charm, and staring emotionlessly at the snow in front of her.

"Hermione?" He kept his voice quiet, trying to avoid scaring her. It worked. Or maybe she just suppressed her surprised jump. Who knew?

"Hey, Harry," she said, not moving her gaze from the snow.

"Can I join you?" he asked, gesturing to the snow beside her.

"Of course," she said, quickly drying a spot so that he could sit too. She made no attempt to talk to him after he sat.

"'Mione, look…" Harry started.

"It's OK, Harry," she said. "I know you don't feel the same way. It's really OK. I just had to tell you." She said all of this while still looking at the snow.

There was a pause.

"You know, it's very strange that you just assume that I don't feel the same way," Harry said casually.

She sighed. "Harry, you've already told me that you only love me like the Weasleys love me. You don't love me like that. Ginny's the lucky one, not me. I've never been the lucky one. First it was Cho, now it's Ginny. Not me."

"That's quite a lot of assumption, Hermione," said Harry.

"Assumption, ha!" she said, with a laugh that was certainly not cheery. "I'm sure that you snogging both of them meant absolutely nothing, then."

"'Mione…" he said, moving to kneel in the small cleared space in front of her. "OK, so I snogged Cho and Ginny. That doesn't mean I loved either of them. It's you I love." Merlin, it felt good to say that.

"Harry, please, just stop," she said, looking up at him. "It hurts. Don't fake it because you feel bad for me, please. It only makes it worse."

"Why won't you believe me?" he asked, confused. "Hermione, I'm sitting here and trying to tell you the truth, and you're telling me that I'm lying. That's what hurts," he said, looking down at his knees and actually feeling pretty bad. (If she did love him, why was she rejecting his efforts to tell her that he felt the same way?)

Hermione didn't speak for a moment, but Harry could tell that she was trying to deduce whether or not he was telling the truth from his at-least-sincere-sounding words and bowed head. Her conclusion must have been good, for he heard a tiny, surprised intake of breath before she spoke again.

"Mother of Merlin, you really mean it, don't you?" she asked, wide-eyed.

"Yes," he said, looking up, "with all my heart."

She looked a little faint. "You've never… you've never tried to tell me before… Why now?"

"I only figured it out a few weeks ago, when I was doing all of that profound thinking," he said.

She smiled. "I knew that something good would come of that," she said quietly.

"It certainly did," he said, moving closer and pulling her into a hug. "I really do mean it, Hermione," he added, making sure that there was no doubt in her mind.

"I know," she said, pushing herself to her knees and wrapping her arms around him, pulling him close. "I know."

The two knelt there for a few moments, just hugging each other, Harry's head on Hermione's shoulder and hers on his, until Harry spoke.

"Hey, Hermione?"

"Yeah?"

He moved his head off of her shoulder so that he could face her. "Mind if I do something stupid?"

"Go right ahead," she said, looking slightly curious. Well, she did, anyway, until she learned exactly what "something stupid" was.

He kissed her. Full on the lips. Caught off guard, she didn't respond right away, but once she did, both felt a very new feeling, like fireworks popping in their heads. (And hearts, of course.) Neither being all that anxious to end their embrace, it lasted about ten or twenty seconds before they finally broke apart, their arms still wrapped around one another.

Harry grinned. "Did you feel that?"

She grinned back. "Oh, yes."

He pulled her closer, resting his head on her shoulder again. "Merlin, 'Mione, I love you. In that man-loves-a-woman way you were talking about," he added.

She smiled, snuggling her face into his shoulder. "I love you too. In that woman-loves-a-man way," she added for emphasis.

He smiled but didn't say anything, savouring the moment. Oh, how wonderful it was to hear her say that, to finally hear her say that for real… He had often imagined a moment where she would say it and really mean it, but never had he thought that he would hear the words coming from her mouth, instead of just from that tiny, hopeful part of his mind.

"You know," he said eventually, "it's a little cold out here."

"Yeah," she said.

"Maybe we should go in," he said.

"I can't," she said.

"Why not?" he asked, confused.

"I'm afraid that this is a dream, and if I move, it'll end," she explained.

He chuckled. "It's not a dream, 'Mione, I promise."

"Are you absolutely sure?" she asked, and he could tell that she was smiling into his shoulder.

"I'm positive," he said. "Now come on, let's go back inside."

He stood first and held out a hand to help her up. She took it and stood up. Both of them glanced at the other, grinned, and didn't bother to let go.

~*~

"So, what now?"

"Pardon?" asked Harry, who was hanging up his coat.

"What do we do now?" asked Hermione, taking off her gloves.

"About…?" asked Harry.

"Us," she said simply.

"Oh. What about us?" asked Harry, taking a seat at the table.

"Harry," she said, "was I the only one present for what just happened outside?"

"No," said Harry, who was still basking in the happy afterglow of kissing Hermione.

"Well, you should know what I'm talking about, then," she said, joining him at the table.

"I know what you're talking about, I just don't know what you mean by "what do we do now?"," Harry explained.

"Well, really, we can't just let this go, can we?" she asked rhetorically. "Unless you want to, of course," she added suddenly, speaking quietly.

"Merlin, no!" said Harry, surprised that she would even consider the possibility of him wanting to ignore the exchange that had just occurred between them.

"Well, then," she said, "we have to figure out what we're going to do. How are we going to tell everyone about us? Assuming that there's going to be an "us"…"

"Of course there's going to be an "us", if you want there to be," said Harry.

She smiled. "Of course I want there to be an "us"," she said. "Honestly, the two of us just said that we loved each other. We're not going to ignore that, are we?"

"No."

"Well, then…" she said, leaving the sentence hanging and grinning as she did.

He smiled back. "I suppose this makes us a couple."

She laughed. "Merlin, we're such romantics, aren't we?"

"Absolutely," he replied, still smiling. "Shameless romantics, at that."

She rolled her eyes before returning to the more serious part of the conversation.

"So, now that we've officially established the fact that there's an 'us', how are we going to tell everyone about it? They all still think that you and Ginny are a couple, and they think that Ron and I sort of have something going on, so they're going to be pretty surprised by this."

Harry nodded. "Yeah, it'll be a bit of a shock for everyone. I guess it would just be better to let them find out if they ask, though. They might not take it well if we make a big deal out of it."

Hermione looked at him quizzically.

"Well, you know how Ron and Ginny are," said Harry, trying to explain. "Ginny decided to snog me before we left the Burrow, as both my birthday present and as "something to remember her by", so she obviously doesn't think that we're broken up for good, and Ron is probably going to be pretty ticked off if he finds out that I stole his girlfriend the minute he left. If we make a big deal out of it, it's just going to aggravate them."

Hermione nodded, Harry had a point. "I agree," she said, "they might not take it so well, but I do feel the need to point out that you did break up with Ginny, whether she likes it or not, and that I was never actually Ron's girlfriend."

"Yeah, but I'm pretty sure that he thought you were," Harry pointed out. "Even if you never agreed on it as formally as we did," he added with a small grin on his face as he remembered the businesslike moment that had established their relationship with each other.

She grinned back, but her tone remained serious. "Well, it's Ron's problem that we never officially became a couple. If he wanted to hold on to me, he should have asked me to be his girlfriend."

Harry nodded. "So, we're just going to let them find out when they find out?"

She shrugged. "I don't see why not."

He smiled. "Well, that's settled, then. So, what do you want to talk about now?"

She tapped her chin thoughtfully. "Hmm… how about you tell me why you fell in love with me?" she asked, smiling sweetly at him.

"Now you're fishing for compliments, Hermione," said Harry, rolling his eyes.

"You're my boyfriend now," she said, still smiling pleasantly at him, "it's your job to compliment me."

He pouted. "No fair. You didn't give me a job description before I agreed to this."

"If you wanted one, you should've asked," she said in a singsong voice, so it came out as 'aaa-asked'. "Now, why don't we get on with the compliments, hm?" she asked, in a more normal tone.

Harry rolled his eyes, got up, and started to pace behind Hermione.

"Let's see… OK, because I think that you're positively gorgeous, even if you don't think that you are," he added, sensing that she was about to protest. "There's that hair of yours, which I know that you hate, but which I think is beautiful, seeing as most other girls have already screwed up their hair by now, messing with it all the time, which you've never really done, except for the Yule Ball and the wedding last summer. Yours is natural looking, and I like that. Then, your eyes, don't even get me started on them. Never have I seen eyes as expressive as yours. They make you very easy to read, which might be good or bad, depending on how you look at it. After that, you've got those unbelievably kissable-looking lips, which are positively maddening to someone like me, who didn't think that he would ever get to kiss them. And then, finally," he said, grinning as he leaned to speak directly into her ear, "there's that womanly figure of yours to consider."

She blushed crimson. "Now, now, Harry, where exactly have you been looking for all these years?"

He began to innocently whistle a random tune, perhaps even one of Peeves' Christmas songs, twiddling his thumbs and looking at the ceiling of the tent. "I have gone temporarily deaf and haven't a clue what you said, 'Mione."

"You pig," she scolded, crossing her arms over her chest as though she had caught him staring at her.

"Aw, come on, 'Mione, I haven't been staring shamelessly," he said defensively, "I've just noticed, that's all. I can't have been the only one."

Hermione went redder, if that was possible.

Harry grinned. "Have you had enough of my compliments now?"

She shrugged. "For now. I want you to save the rest for another time."

"OK," he said, sitting back down and pressing the tips of his fingers together expectantly. "Your turn."

"What?"

"It's your turn," he told her. "To tell me what made you fall in love with me," he explained.

"Oh," she said, getting up to pace behind him, as he had done before. "All right, let me think… I think the cutest thing about you used to be your taped-up glasses, which, of course, I always had to fix for you. And then there was – and still is – your decidedly messy hair, and that cute little smile. There is, of course, the matter of those-" and here she sighed dramatically, "incredibly handsome green eyes of yours, and those lips that beg for someone to kiss them and are, as you said about mine before, absolutely maddening to someone like me, who never thought that I'd get the chance to give those lips what they so obviously wanted. And, finally, if we're going to go all-out here," she leant to speak directly into his ear, just as he had done to her a few moments earlier, "there's the matter of that wonderfully Quidditch-toned body of yours."

He blushed a little, though not as much as she had. "Didn't think it was such a big deal," he said casually.

"Honestly, Harry, ask any female under the age of, say, twenty-five, within the walls of Hogwarts and probably outside, too, and she'll tell you that it's a big deal," said Hermione, chuckling a little.

"Oh," said Harry, going slightly redder.

"Have you had enough of my compliments now?" she asked, grinning.

He nodded. "But only for now," he warned her. "Make sure to have plenty more for the next time I ask."

"Don't worry," she assured him, "I will. I've got more than six years of this stuff built up, you know. It'll last for a while."

Harry looked at her, slightly surprised. "All that time?" he asked. "All that time, and you never told me?"

She looked a little guilty. "I was too scared," she explained. "I'd never fancied a boy before, you know. I didn't know what to say, how to tell you… It wasn't exactly something I could read up on, was it?"

Harry shook his head. "I suppose not."

"And I did kiss you in fourth year, you know. I was hoping you'd catch on, but… I guess a kiss on the cheek wasn't quite enough, huh?" she asked, a small, almost embarrassed grin on her face.

"I guess not, but I should have caught on," said Harry, feeling something close to guilt. "It only registered in my head that you'd never done that before, not that it could mean anything. I guess I should have noticed that you never did it again after that. And then you kissed Ron instead," he said sadly. "I should've realized what you were trying to do before it was too late."

She put a hand on his shoulder. "Don't go feeling guilty, Harry. I wasn't exactly being very forward about fancying you, and besides, you had enough to worry about after fourth year without trying to make sense of my weak little attempts at telling you how I felt. I guess I should have tried a bit harder," she said, sounding a little mad at herself for not making more of an effort.

Harry covered the hand on his shoulder with his own. "Maybe, but I should have tried a little harder too. I should have tried to have a larger emotional range than a teaspoon," he said, grinning up at her.

"Oh, Harry, you've always had a larger emotional range than a teaspoon," she said.

"Maybe, but I should have been smart enough to pick up on the fact that you had never kissed me before, ever, and you doing it so suddenly should have at least set off something in my mind. But I guess it was like you said, I had a lot of things to worry about after fourth year… Though I still think that one of those things should have been you."

She gave his shoulder a reassuring squeeze. "Ah, well, things turned out in the end, huh?"

He smiled. "Yeah. Yeah, they did."


	2. The End of the Battle

**A/N:** Thanks to everyone who favourited the story or put it in their alerts! Also, thanks Dappycat for reviewing! Glad you all liked it! Much shorter chapter this time...

**The End of the Battle**

_WHUMP!_

Harry was nearly tackled to the ground as Hermione seized him and pulled him into a bone-crushing hug worthy of Mrs. Weasley's approval.

"Oh, Harry, you did it!" she cried, sobbing into his shoulder, laughing and stealing a quick kiss on his cheek all at the same time. Both she and Harry would have liked to snog each other senseless, they both knew it, but that was impossible in front of all of these people. Their relationship was still a meticulously kept secret, and not a soul suspected a thing. Even Hermione's stolen kiss on Harry's cheek was quick enough to go thoroughly unnoticed by the cheering crowd, including the horde of Weasleys that was now enveloping the two.

It was finally over. The most difficult months that anyone had ever known were finally over, and the future looked bright for the first time in what seemed like forever. Voldemort had fallen, along with Bellatrix Lestrange and most of the Death Eaters, and those who had survived were currently being carted off to Azkaban, to wither away in the company of the Dementors for the rest of their days.

There had, of course, been losses on the good side as well. Aberforth, the last of the Dumbledore line, lay dead in the Great Hall, along with Professors Sinistra, Sprout and Snape, Lee Jordan, Dean Thomas and many other Hogwarts students - Gryffindors, Ravenclaws, Hufflepuffs and Slytherins alike, all of whom had fought bravely to defend themselves, Harry and the beloved Hogwarts castle. The pain of their deaths would come in time, and they would be respectfully mourned, but for now there were cheers, and there was laughter. Harry and Hermione found themselves crushed by hundreds of people, the room forming a sort of giant group hug, as witches and wizards from every house and every walk of life threw their arms around each other like best friends. Draco Malfoy was seen being held close by Professor McGonagall herself, the two wrapped in a bigger embrace by Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy. Lucius would be taken to Azkaban in a little while, to pay for his crimes like everyone else, but he was left to hold on to his family for just a few minutes longer, to pull them close and make sure that they were all right, before being imprisoned for the rest of his life.

Argus Filch, cradling a mewing Mrs. Norris, had been pulled into a hug by a group of students who would usually have tried to beat him over the head with a broomstick if he got within six feet of them. He had fought valiantly, especially considering the fact that he was a Squib among wizards, fighting his way through Death Eaters using "the old one-two", as Uncle Vernon would have said. Luckily for Filch, Death Eaters were not usually very brawny, relying on their magic to fight. The old caretaker might not have been a wizard, but he was surprisingly agile for his age when it came to dodging curses (perhaps it came from years and years of students trying to hex him), not to mention perfectly capable of knocking a man out with his bare hands despite his seemingly feeble build.

Tiny Professor Flitwick had popped up above the crowd, being tossed into the air and caught again by a group of laughing professors and students. It was probably thanks to him that Hogwarts castle still stood, damaged and a little shaky, but still standing tall in the light of the dawn. He laughed squeakily as he was thrown and caught again and again by the crowd, sending triumphant fireworks into the air and filling the Great Hall with bursts of coloured light.

Fred and George Weasley were seen soaring over the crowd on broomsticks that they must have found somewhere, tossing some of their Wildfire Whiz-Bangs into the air, where they joined Flitwick's magical fireworks. The air glittered with silver and gold sparks, not to mention multiples sparkling replicas of the Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff and even Slytherin crests (though it must be said that there were only a handful of Slytherin crests, while the sky was thick with the red and gold of Gryffindor). Their shocking pink Catherine wheels whizzed around the Great Hall, ricocheting off the walls as they went. They seemed to have charmed some of their sparklers just for the occasion, because "POTTER FOR PRESIDENT" and "POTTER POWER" were being repeatedly spelled out in silver and gold over the crowd, glittering for a few moments before fading and sure to be spelled out again in less than a minute.

Arthur and Molly Weasley were the first to hoist Harry into the air, where he was quickly joined by Hermione and Ron (though the redhead did not deserve it at all, never having returned to the tent after deserting his friends – well, ex-friends now – but he received the attention anyway because he was still perceived as Harry's best mate). The three were passed around the room as the crowd proceeded outside, into the fresh air and the sunlight. The fireworks followed, soaring high into the sky and becoming less visible in the sunshine. Fawkes was seen soaring in circles around the throng of people, singing a wonderfully triumphant song and lifting everyone's spirits even higher.

The merrymaking continued for a while, until everyone's throats were too raw to cheer anymore and their arms too tired to support the Boy-Who-Lived, his (secret) girlfriend and his friend-turned-enemy any longer. When the end of the cheering finally came, Harry, Hermione and Ron were set down and finally given a bit of peace as everyone quieted down a little and stopped giving them bone-crushing hugs. Madam Rosmerta appeared from the Three Broomsticks, levitating innumerable cases of Firewhiskey, Butterbeer and other drinks to soothe everyone's throats. The wireless from the Room of Requirement appeared and was quickly charmed to play so that everyone could hear the music at the same volume no matter how close to or far away from it they were (within about fifty feet). Madam Pomfrey set up a makeshift hospital in a corner of the Great Hall, quickly restoring the less gravely injured to good health and making sure that the more severely injured were stable enough for transport to St. Mungo's. The Death Eaters who remained were quickly rounded up and transported to Azkaban via a mass Portkey (a mask taken from one of the Death Eaters, ironically), and the wireless informed everyone that all of the darker wizards were being arrested all over the world, found trying to hide in Canada, Russia and even Australia.

The crowd spread out over the vast Hogwarts grounds and the noise level declined enough to hold a conversation without having to yell. Harry stood a little way off from the people, under the tree that he had often sat under with his friends, the one where his father and the rest of the Marauders had once sat together. He surveyed the crowd with a smile on his face, feeling light as a feather (the copious amounts of Firewhiskey might have helped a little). He was gazing happily into space when he suddenly found himself knocked to the ground by someone a little smaller than he was. He probably would have yelled in surprised had he not recognized his attacker's laugh as he was quickly tackled and blinded by their hands over his eyes.

"Guess who?" giggled the voice.

"Er… Merlin?" Harry guessed.

"No!" the voice laughed. "Guess again."

"'Mione, love, I know it's you," Harry chuckled.

The hands were lifted from his glasses and Hermione's grinning face came into focus, looking down at him from his left.

"Boo," she said.

"I'm terrified."

"You should be," she said with a giggle, helping him to his feet, "if I can tackle you that easily."

"No fair," he pouted, "I was spacing out, not to mention that I might be a little drunk."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Lay off the Firewhiskey, love," she said, giving him a shove and chuckling as he nearly fell over. "I mean it. I don't feel like kissing a drunk guy."

"Mmm… well, if there's kissing involved, I might consider your proposal," said Harry as he slowly managed to steady himself.

"Darn right you'll consider it," she said, "it's an order."

He stuck his tongue out at her. "I don't have to listen to you, I'm Harry Potter!" he exclaimed happily, throwing his arms in the air and nearly making himself fall over.

She eyed him sternly. "If you ever, ever want there to be kissing involved again, you'll listen to me, Harry Potter," she told him, crossing her arms.

"Aw, that's not fair," said Harry, "don't deprive me of what I need most, 'Mione."

Hermione's expression softened. "Promise me that you won't drink any more Firewhiskey and you can have a kiss."

Harry grinned. "All right, no more Firewhiskey."

"Promise?"

"I promise."

"Good," she said. Then, with an evil grin, she gave him the quickest peck on the cheek that he had ever gotten and skipped away, giggling madly. Harry deduced that she must be a little tipsy as well, and chased after her, intending to get a proper kiss. He caught up with her in a few strides, tackling her behind yet another tree and holding her arms to the ground.

"I want my kiss," he said.

"I gave it to you already," she said, giggling and trying to wriggle out of his grip.

"I want a real one."

"That was a real one!" she giggled.

"You're a crook, did you know that?"

"Yup."

"Well, you're not getting away with it this time," he told her, and he pressed his lips to hers. She pulled away playfully.

"You've had your kiss," she insisted, trying to squirm away from him again.

"I want another one, then."

She stuck her tongue out at him. "Promise me something else if you want another kiss."

"What should I promise?"

"Anything."

"I promise I'll stop asking for kisses," he offered.

She seemed to consider that. "OK," she agreed. He grinned and pressed his lips against hers again. She kissed him back for a few moments before pulling away.

"OK, you've had your kiss. Someone might see us if we keep this up," she warned.

"I don't care," Harry said, grinning. He flopped onto the grass beside her with his arms and legs splayed haphazardly. "I love Hermione Jane Granger and I don't care who knows it!" he said happily.

"Harry, you are adorable when you're smashed, did you know that?" she asked, resting her head on his arm instead of on the ground.

"And yet you won't let me have more Firewhiskey."

"Only because you're going to give yourself alcohol poisoning if you keep drinking."

He snapped his fingers a little clumsily. "Right. Forgot about that."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "My boyfriend the idiot."

"The adorable idiot," said Harry.

"I suppose. Thank Merlin you're an excellent kisser or I'd have nothing to do with you."

"Right," said Harry. "That's the only reason you stick with me?" he asked, prodding her side. She squirmed in protest.

"Stop it, you're tickling me! And yes, I only stick around for the kissing."

Harry leaned over so that he was looking down at her. "Well, I'd like to keep you around." He kissed her again. She waited only a moment before she pulled away.

"You promised-"

"That I wouldn't ask," Harry said with a sly grin. Hermione rolled her eyes and poked him in the chest. He evaded any more poking by lying back on the grass.

"You're a crook," she said.

"I learned from the best."

"I want another promise as a trade for that kiss," she said.

"I want another kiss as a trade for another promise as a trade for that kiss," he countered.

"I want another promise in exchange for a kiss as a trade for the promise that you owe me for that kiss," she said. She was less drunk that he was and therefore more capable of remembering this sort of sequence.

Harry's eyes rolled up towards the sky as he tried to remember how to phrase his argument. "I want another kiss in exchange for the promise that I owe you for… For Merlin's sake, just kiss me already!" he exclaimed, trying to press his lips to hers.

She put a finger on his lips. "Promise first, then I might consider giving you another kiss. We've already risked being seen… er… four times this morning, I think," she reminded him, pausing to try to remember how many times they had kissed. "It's not a good idea to keep it up. We're going to get caught."

Harry looked thoughtful. "I've thought of a promise."

"What is it?"

He smiled at her. "I promise to tell everyone about 'us' as soon as I'm sober enough to think straight."

Hermione's eyes brightened. "You'll tell them?"

"Of course I'll tell them," he said.

"You're not just saying that because you're drunk, are you?"

Harry shook his head. "Not a chance."

Hermione looked doubtful.

"I promise I'll tell them," he repeated. "Really. I'll tell everyone that I am very, very much in love with you and that we're together, whether they like it or not."

"Really?" she asked. "You'll tell them all of that?"

"I promise," he repeated. "Though I might not tell them in those exact words," he added thoughtfully.

She pulled him closer. "You know, I think you might get that kiss."

He smiled. "Good. But I'll tell them anyway, even if I don't get it. I said it before: I love Hermione Jane Granger and I don't care who knows it."

She smiled as well and lightly pressed her lips to his. "And I love Harry James Potter and I don't care who knows it, as long as he does."

"He certainly does," said Harry.

"Good," she said. "But I guess he won't be the only one, soon enough."

Harry nodded. "Tomorrow, love. I promise."


	3. Grimmauld Place

**A/N: **A/N: Chapter 3, yay! I've never posted chapters this quickly before… wow. It's another short one, but I think it gets the job done nicely.

**Grimmauld Place**

Thanks so much to everyone who's read and reviewed so far!

The festivities at Hogwarts lasted all that day, until the sun began to set and everyone was just too exhausted to celebrate any longer. People pitched in to clean up the grounds and then started Disapparating home (the wards having been broken by the battle). Harry, who had sobered up a little since Hermione had made him swear off Firewhiskey that morning, quickly ran around to find everyone he knew (The Weasleys, the Lupins, Neville, Luna, Hagrid and even Professor McGonagall) before they left, and told them that he was going to hold a little get-together at Grimmauld Place the next day around noon, to "catch up with everyone". He then located Hermione, who was nodding off against the tree they had spent most of the day lying behind. He smiled and gently prodded her back to alertness.

"Come on, love, everybody's leaving."

She sat up straighter and rubbed her eyes. "Mmm… leaving?" she repeated. "I'm guessing that means we're leaving too, right?"

"Right," said Harry. "Unless you'd rather sleep on the ground."

"As tempting as that sounds, I think I'd prefer a proper bed," said Hermione. "Where are we going?"

"Grimmauld Place," he told her.

"Oh," she said, getting to her feet. "OK." She gave Harry a curious look when he reached out and took her hand in his.

"I can Apparate on my own, you know," she told him. "You're the one without the license. If anything, I should be Apparating you."

He smiled. "I know, 'Mione, but it gives us an excellent opportunity to hold hands without anyone getting too suspicious, doesn't it?"

She nodded. "Yeah, it does. I guess we ought to make the most of it, huh?"

Harry nodded. "We should. Now come on, I want to get some sleep, and by the looks of it, so do you."

She rubbed her eyes again with her free hand. "Mm-hm," she said sleepily.

"Well, try to stay awake long enough to Apparate, OK?" Harry asked with a grin. "I'd prefer it if you didn't end up leaving half of yourself here."

"I'll try," she said, grinning back drowsily. "But no laughing at me if I end up Splinching myself."

"All right. On three, then, and make sure to concentrate on the top step, just in case there's still a mob of Death Eaters outside," said Harry. "One, two…" He visualized Grimmauld Place as clearly as he could, making sure to put emphasis on the details of the top step, as that was where he was aiming to end up. "Three."

The two turned together and disappeared from the Hogwarts grounds, being pulled momentarily into the uncomfortable tube-like space that was Apparation. They reappeared on the top step of the dreary Number Twelve, a quick glance around telling Harry that there were no longer Death Eaters swarming the place. He tapped the door with his wand to unlock it and kept his wand hand raised, just in case someone had managed to get in. The house seemed quiet and none of the protective charms activated (they were probably deactivated, since Voldemort and Snape were dead), so Harry relaxed a little, still keeping his wand in his hand as a precaution. Hermione noticed.

"Harry," she said, "relax. Nobody's here."

"How can you be sure?" he asked. "If those protective charms don't activate anymore, anybody could be in-"

"Harry, just watch," she said, cutting him off as she pulled her wand from her pocket. "Homenum revelio," she said, and other than Harry feeling a weird sort of cold rush over him, the spell achieved the same result as it had the last time Hermione had cast it: dead silence. "See?" she asked, putting her wand back in her pocket. "No signs of life except for us."

Harry became slightly alarmed. "What about Kreacher?" he asked. Though the elf wasn't exactly his best friend, he still hoped that the little creature was all right. Kreacher had just led an army of house-elves in an attack against the Death Eaters, possibly saving the lives of many witches and wizards, hadn't he?

Hermione squeezed his hand reassuringly. "The spell only detects humans, Harry. Kreacher's either here or at Hogwarts, where you sent him."

Harry nodded. "Right, right… I was worried for a minute there…"

Hermione smiled. "Wow, you were actually worried about Kreacher? That's new."

"Well… yeah, I guess I was a little worried about him," Harry admitted. "I mean, he's not the sweetest thing, but he's still… well, I don't want to say "mine", because that sounds pretty weird, but he's still… well, it's like he's part of my little makeshift family."

"Your what?" asked Hermione.

"Well, I do kind of have a makeshift family, don't you think? I mean, I haven't got any kind of real blood relation to anyone except for the Dursleys, but the Weasleys are like my adoptive family, and you're… well, I don't really know what part you'd be, but you're still very important. A while ago, I would have said that you were like my sister, but… well, I don't think I'd spend any length of time snogging my sister," he said with a grin. Hermione blushed a little and Harry continued. "And then there's Remus and Tonks, who are kind of like my uncle and aunt. Well, the Dursleys are technically my uncle and aunt," he admitted, "but everybody knows how much we hate each other. Teddy gets the closest to actual family, because he's my godson. And Kreacher… well, he's not really anything resembling an actual relation, but I still want him to be safe and healthy, like I would with anyone in my family."

Hermione pulled him into a hug the minute he had finished speaking. "Harry, that has to be one of the sweetest things I have ever heard you say."

"Yeah, well… I guess I can manage the sweet stuff once in a while…" said Harry, blushing a little as he hugged her back.

"I'm glad you've had a change of heart about Kreacher," she said.

"Well, he's not a bad little guy, I guess… I mean, he was pretty nice to us after I gave him that locket."

"I told you, Harry, he'll be nice if he's treated right," Hermione reminded him.

"Yeah, you were right, as always," Harry said as he gently broke their embrace. Hermione tried not to look terribly flattered by this, but Harry could see that she liked his little compliment. "But I think I was right about you needing some sleep," he added, seeing that she looked quite tired.

"You were definitely right about that," she said, rubbing her eyes again. "Sleep would be very welcome at the moment."

"Well, go on and find a room you like, then," said Harry. "Try not to be suffocated by the dust, though. And make sure you look around for Boggarts and giant spiders. Oh, and try not to get strangled by a bunch of murderous old robes, either."

"Oh, ha-ha," said Hermione. "You know that Kreacher's been keeping the place a lot cleaner nowadays."

"I know, I know," said Harry. "Go on," he repeated, "before you fall asleep on the floor."

She rolled her eyes at him. "You seem eager to get rid of me."

"Of course I'm not eager to get rid of you, I'm just trying to get you to go to bed before you faint."

"Get me to go to bed?" she repeated. "What about you?"

"I'm going too," he said, rolling his eyes.

"Aren't you coming with me?" she asked, grinning. In the tent during the winter, the two had gotten into the habit of sleeping in the same bed (for warmth, they had always agreed whenever one of them began to wonder exactly how decent their nightly accommodations were) and had never quite given it up. Mrs. Weasley would probably have had a fit about it being improper, but Harry and Hermione didn't care. (Well, really, they were only sleeping in the same bed, not sleeping together!)

"Of course, if you want me to," he said.

"I most certainly do," she said. She grinned and threw her arms around him in another tight hug, making uncharacteristic puppy-dog eyes up at him. "I couldn't get to sleep without my teddy bear, could I?"

He rolled his eyes but smiled. "You know, you've turned into such a girl these past few months," he commented.

"I've always been a girl!" she protested. "It might've taken you and Ron three years to notice it, but-"

"I've always known you were a girl, 'Mione," Harry chuckled. "But lately you're actually acting like one, with the giggling and the snogging and the tackling your poor boyfriend to the ground and all."

She grinned and giggled. "That was fun."

"Yes, it was," Harry said with a smile. "And look, you're giggling. My point has been proven," he said triumphantly. "Hermione Granger has started to giggle! What's next, the sky turning yellow with purple polka dots?"

"Harry," she said, rolling her eyes, "I've always been like this, at least on the inside. I just never had anyone to show this side of me to, that's all."

Harry looked at her curiously. "What do you mean?"

Hermione sighed. "Everybody always expects me to be the oh-so-serious Hermione Granger, top of her class, devoted follower of rules and the biggest killjoy in the history of the world. Nobody wants to know if Hermione Granger giggles or not, as long as she brings in the house points and keeps the Gryffindor hourglass nice and full. Except for you, though," she added, smiling up at him. "You let me giggle."

"Of course I do," he said, kissing her forehead and holding her tight. "Oh, 'Mione, I didn't know it was like that for you. I thought you liked being the oh-so-serious Hermione Granger."

"I do, sometimes," she said. "Part of me is the oh-so-serious Hermione Granger, but I don't want to be like that all the time. As I said, I'm still a girl. I giggle. I like snogging my boyfriend. And I especially like having someone to cuddle with before I fall asleep," she said contentedly, snuggling into his chest.

"Well, stuff me and call me a teddy bear," Harry chuckled. "And as girly as this sounds, I have to admit that I don't mind the cuddling either," he told her, blushing a little. "But I reserve the right to deny ever saying that if you let it slip to anyone."

"Aww, how sweet," she said, standing on tiptoe to kiss him on the cheek. "Don't worry, your secret's safe with me. But I'm not to be held responsible if I accidentally call you my teddy bear in front of Tonks or someone," she warned him, grinning. Tonks was the worst person to let those sorts of things slip around, because she would never, ever let you live it down.

"Let that slip and I might have to tickle you to death," he threatened, and before Hermione could react, he had tackled her in a perfect imitation of how she had tackled him that morning and was tickling her senseless, making her shriek with laughter.

"Harry James Potter – I'm going to – kill you!" she gasped through her mirth, trying to wriggle away from him.

"Ooh, when the full name comes out, I know I'm in trouble," he said, rolling his eyes and looking mock-terrified at the same time. He tickled her for a moment longer before he finally stopped.

"Honestly, Harry," she panted, breathless from too much hysterical laughter. "Are you trying to kill me or what?"

"Nah, of course not. Whomever would I snog, with you gone?" he asked innocently.

"Nobody," she said firmly. "I wouldn't let you."

"Really? Would you haunt me or something?" he asked.

"Probably. How could I ever exist without my Harry?" she asked sweetly.

"You couldn't," he said. "I'd have to bring you back with the Re-" He stopped suddenly and got a curious look from Hermione.

"Harry? What is it?" she asked.

"It's nothing," he said quickly, running a hand through his messy hair. "Nothing important. Come on, let's get to bed," he said, changing the subject quicker than you could say 'Quidditch'. "It's late."

"OK," she said, still looking rather confused by his sudden subject change and curious about why he had suddenly cut his sentence short like that. She took the hand that he offered to help her up and got to her feet, searching his face for any indication of what was bothering him, but finding none. She let him lead her through the house until they stopped in the doorway of a room that she recognized as the one that Harry and Ron had stayed in during the summer before their fifth year at Hogwarts. She was surprised that he still remembered it.

"This one all right, 'Mione?" he asked her.

"Yup," she replied. "See? I told you that Kreacher would have kept everything clean," she added, gesturing around the spotless room. Not a speck of dust was present on anything.

Harry nodded. "So, you'll get changed here and I'll take the bathroom?"

"Sure," she replied, digging through her bag until she found a pair of his pyjamas. "Here you go."

"Thanks," he said, before heading back downstairs and leaving a bemused Hermione standing in the doorway


End file.
